Brilliant As The Void
by EmpireHyracia
Summary: The day Seira watched her father leave, they both knew he would die.


Author's Note: After being a fan of Noblesse for going on three years now, I finally decided to write me some fanfic. This is obviously AU, and was inspired by the Noblesse AMV _Oh, Death_, by Cold April, on Youtube. I hope you enjoy it!

_It hurt, often. Having the shadow, the glimpse of a thought, that insinuated itself into her mind like a crawling worm. Feeling-knowing, but having no words to describe, no way to open her mouth without admitting that she was insane, that her mind had corners of shattered glass, bloody shadows reflected in their mirrors. It grew weaker as her body grew older, but did not fade entirely._

_The day Seira watched her father leave, they both knew he would die._

_Neither admitted it._

_After Gejutel came with the news, she buried that knowledge as deep as deep could be, under a mountain of denial across a lake of pain beyond plains of desolation._

_And never dug at what it might mean._

Ragnarok, the fabled soul weapon of the Lord, is most powerful. The Death Scythe, however, is oldest.

In the dawning of the world, there was a woman. She had parents, a sister, a husband, and a young child. She was one of those beings known as Nobles. There were others, but none nearby. It was a simple life, brilliant and full of promise. The region in which she and her loves lived, however, bordered on territory held by a clan of werewolves. And, one year, the coldest and darkest of midwinter, they sought to claim more land.

That night, she lay on the frozen ground with one of her legs half-torn off, bleeding out into the earth. Parents; ripped apart. Sister; headless and splayed across a boulder some twenty feet away. Husband; bitten and broken and barely standing. She clutched her fatally injured child so very close, as her vision started to blur in and out. They finished her beloved- she heard his last gasping breaths- and stalked confidently in her direction.

Balanced between death and life, her only living family screaming and dying in her arms, she broke. Screaming defiantly at the advancing werewolves, she pulled her little boy from her, laid him gently behind, and grabbed a stick from where it lay on the ground. And something heard her. Dark energy twisted inward from somewhere beyond, and she charged at them with eyes glowing brilliantly white. She struck first, and an immense backlash of energy blasted through the clearing around the ruins of a home, sending werewolves and child flying.

He woke up tucked against his mother's side. She was cold in the way that only dead things can be, arms loosely cradling him. Her silky hair, once so vital and shining a midnight black, was stark white, like shattered bones and snow. As was his own.

Several years later, a young boy wandered into a human settlement, from the direction of the northern mountains. His eyes were like garnets, and his hair and skin shimmered like the deep snows. The people of the village looked at him, and saw the winter, taken human flesh. They revered him as a spirit, and sheltered him willingly. For some twenty summers, he lived among them, hunting the beasts of the wilderness as they did, working and cooperating. He gradually learned the meaning of their language, though he spoke it rarely. As far as they could tell, he never grew any older.

They were attacked, in the fall of his twenty-second year among them, by werewolves. As families fell and homes shattered, he stood there, unmoving. His eyes were closed. One of the attackers approached the boy, claws out, a savage grin on his face.

There was a swift blur of motion, too quick to catch. The werewolf stood there a moment, then collapsed in pieces. All of a sudden, there was something in the child's hands; a pole and blade, akin in shape to a farming scythe, but midnight black and so very deadly-sharp. In the space of a hundred heartbeats, every one of the attacking pack was dead, their blood scattered across the ground. The people of the village looked at him in fear and awe, and prostrated themselves. He left a month later, heading to the south.

_"The first and greatest of our Lords was named Iubar. The name of his silent one, the being first called Noblesse, has not survived the ages. They were the ones to gather the Nobles as one, to give purpose and ceremony to a scattered, powerful race. The first of their supporters was the Clan Leader of what would become the Loyard. Calling himself Hiemalis, he carried with him a midnight scythe, and took up his position next to them. It was the inspiration of his weapon that prompted the first Lord to leave his successor a similar instrument."_

_The Annals of the History of the Noble Race, Vol 1, Chapter 5_

As they fought in that last battle against the Union, Seira's eyes were closed. Her enemy, much older and more powerful, taunted her, anger glinting in his eyes- that this child dared mock him in such a way- unthinkable!

It was not his imprecations that she tried so hard to block out, but the sound of death, howling its approach like a storm wind. She could feel them fall, vitality ebbing away from their bodies, even though none of them had been touched yet. Ever since the death of the Noblesse- a death that she had felt two days early in her mind, like the most certain tolling of a solemn bell- the mountain within her had been creaking, breaking. There was void at the edge of her defined self, and now it was roiling obscenely in her sight.

Tao of the painted nails and witty lines was coughing up blood now. She had heard his last scream in the middle of night, and awoken shuddering and crying. Frankenstein was mad, insane, blind with grief and rage, ignoring the wounds that were rending his form. The mirrors in the bathroom had shown her explosions of dark tearing energy, breaking through the layers of refusal she had tried feebly to keep in place. She had vomited into the toilet, quiet as could be, crying and shaking her head in mute refusal.

There was a woman's voice in her ear.

With the tumult of war and chaos raging all about, it was nevertheless still and small and persistent. A feeling of protection, of sheltering black wings like flowing hair. Words that were an instruction and a command both, spoken gently through the massive rents in the landscape of her mind. Fingers gently wrapping about her wrists, guiding and gentling.

_this is what you do_

And the fabric of reality split before her.

Lights dotted an endless night, loving and breathing and living. Some blazed like bonfires, some glowed like candles. They were all so small, so easy to touch. So vulnerable. She reached out.

Her enemy stabbed her, only for the blade to pass through her body as smoke. His face contorted in shock. And abruptly, all across the battlefield, a force swept like a crashing wave. Bodies crumpled like marionettes with their strings cut. Tao looked down, and saw his wounds wiped away, as if they had never been. Regis watched in unadulterated shock as the enemy that had been beating M-21 and himself into a bloody paste shuddered and dropped to the ground. There was quiet for a long moment, devoid of any sound but breath. And then, everyone was moving, calling out in shock and wonder. There were sudden embraces, cries of joy and absolute befuddlement.

It was Frankenstein, Tao's arms wrapped bruising tight around him and as many others as the idiot could reach, who saw a scrap of white. He broke loose from the rapidly accumulating knot of people. Jumping down into the crater, he nearly tripped over Seira, who was lying on the blasted earth in the boneless sprawl common to both the dead and sleeping children. She was mostly covered by a black cloak, and her scythe was nowhere to be seen. Her hair was neatly brushed back, and her eyes were closed. He felt the feeling of ridiculous elation that had been building in his chest vanish, to be replaced by a growing black pain.

And then she breathed out. Gently. Then, in again.

His knees failed to support him, and he half-collapsed next to her in relief, with a mixture of laughter and sobbing. Later, it would be incredibly embarrassing to look back on, but for now he could think of nothing but that everyone was alive, and it was so impossible and wonderful. As everyone spilled over the edge of the crater, Seira stirred slightly, pulling the cloak more tightly about herself. Regis was by her side instantly, grinning so wide that his face looked contorted. As everyone gathered around her, she awoke, and attempted to brace herself on her elbows, eyes still closed. Frankenstein reached out to help her. She blinked confusedly, and looked at him.

Her eyes were white, devoid of pupil and crimson iris. They stared sightlessly past him. And then, she smiled brilliantly, joyfully, and turned her face to all of them. Frankenstein helped her to her feet. A moment later, he began radiating a dark aura, as Tao chose that moment to resume the group hug. Which went on for several minutes. Then, when it became clear that Seira couldn't see the ground, Rozaria picked her up. Everyone stood there for a bit, until Rajak remembered where the plane had been parked, and started off in that direction, Rael sticking to his side like glue. The sun set, and the mountains in the distance glowed red and gold.

_"Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children."_


End file.
